


At Ease

by Neffectual



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Family, Fluff, Home, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neffectual/pseuds/Neffectual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never thought he'd be coming home - and he never thought this was what would be waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Ease

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very, very sick, and in lots of pain, and I needed something good.

Dean honestly never thought he was coming home. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, that would be the biggest lie he could ever have told, because god knew he wanted to come home every day he was out there, under the blazing sun. He spent his few down hours writing letter after letter, pages of them, that he never sent, because he just couldn’t send all that worry and panic, didn’t want to send the pain of war home without his physical presence there to take out some of the sting. He never thought for a second that he was coming home, but he fought with all his might, dragged himself through every inch of perilous terrain with the thought of home, the scent of their bed, their pillows, the sounds of their lovemaking – all of it surrounding him like a paradise he felt he’d never again get to touch.

To step off the plane is like being struck by lightning, and he’s numb as he goes through passport control, his camouflage standing out against all the civilians. The broad smile he’s given by the uniformed officer behind the desk is blinked at – no one’s been pleased to see him in years, not actually happy to see him. Grateful, yes, or glad to see he’s alive, happy to hear the information he’s brought back or to know that most of the squad made it this time, but no one has been genuinely happy to see him at all. Standing by the luggage carousel, he’s flicking eyes over his shoulder, noticing how no one stands too close to him, how they keep a distance that could be respectful or could be fearful. It doesn’t matter to him either way; he just gets his bag and hefts it across his shoulder, heads for the exit.

He doesn’t know if his letter made it in time, doesn’t know if there was anything official – doesn’t even know if what they have is considered official by anyone in charge, any of the top brass. He doesn’t know whether anyone will be there to meet him, thinks he has enough for a coffee and a cab back home, if home is still where it was before. The last letter came three months ago, and was cold, stilted, full of words which hadn’t actually been written, but had certainly been thought. Words like time, and distance, and heartbreak. Words like abandoned, alone, hurting, unworthy. Dean heard every single one of them as he read the letter over and over, until the paper almost wore through, the loopy handwriting smudged by fingerprints and splashes he firmly refused to admit were tearstains.

He sees Roman before anyone else; his best friend has always been hard to miss in a crowd, all dark hair and that tattoo sleeve he’s so proud of, and Dean’s moving faster before he can stop himself, bumping a woman, and turning to apologise, meeting her eyes as she shakes her head and smiles, mouthing ‘go to him’ as he turns back – and wants to stop dead. Seth, Seth, running towards him, full pelt in the middle of a busy airport, dodging businessmen and families alike, weaving his way between them. He looks so good, toned, a little thinner than he had before, maybe, the bleach streak Dean so loved grown almost all the way out, just a slice of it in the brown curls pulled back into a messy ponytail.

The freezing moves way to running, like he’ll die if he doesn’t get to Seth sooner, and Roman’s behind Seth, too, a little girl on his hip – and that can’t really be Joelle, can it, she’s so big now, he used to change her diapers. When Seth stumbles, like his knees won’t hold him, Dean puts on an extra burst of speed, and Roman’s picking Seth up, helping him to his feet, urging him on with a hand on his elbow, and Roman’s face is serious, the Joelle’s face matching her father’s, but Seth’s face is naked hope and longing, every second they’ve been apart etched on his expression, bottom lip wobbling.

When they collide, Dean drops his bag and hefts Seth instead, letting those long legs wrap around his waist like they’ve done so many times before, holds his husband to him and grips him so tight he wonders if Seth can breathe. They haven’t the space for kissing, not yet, just holding each other desperately, and when Dean can hear over the rush of blood in his ears, Seth’s saying over and over ‘I never thought I’d see you again, I never thought I’d get this, I never thought I’d see you again’ and it damn near breaks his heart to realise Seth knew exactly what he was thinking about, all those years away in the desert. He knows his hands must be gripping Seth’s hips too tightly, but he can’t help it, can’t bring himself to let go, not even for a second, because this is his husband, the husband he never thought he’d hold again, and he can’t quite convince himself it’s real.

When he finally lets Seth go enough to let him slide back to his feet, it’s barely a second before they’re kissing, desperate and fast, teeth clicking together like they’ve forgotten how they fit together, before they mellow out, slow and easy, just pouring their love for each other into it. It feels so good to be back where he belongs, home, home in his husband’s arms, because home isn’t a place you live, home is where your heart is at peace, and the only place that has ever been is with Seth. Dean rubs the platinum ring on his finger, back in its proper place after being kept in a pouch for so long, and it doesn’t feel alien at all, like he thought it might – just right, and proper, and how it should be.

When Seth finally lets go of him and moves back, Roman’s stepping close, whispering brother as he rubs their foreheads together, Dean slipping his hand into that thick dark hair like he always has, their faces inches away, and he can feel Roman’s sobbing breaths against his face. They’ve always been so close, close enough that those who didn’t know them considered them to be lovers, but this is their inescapable bond, their ability to be close like this and just breathe together. There’s a tug at Dean’s pant leg, and then he has to kneel down and pull Jojo into his arms – she might not remember him, really, but she’s crying because her daddy is, and she knows he’s someone important. A quick glance at Seth reveal he’s crying, too, and Dean wipes a hand down his own face and feels wetness.

When they finally move, Roman shoulders his bag, despite Dean’s complaints, and Seth grips his left hand like a lifeline, fingers tracing the wedding band over and over as Jojo takes his other hand, chattering about how Uncle Dean will have to see all the colouring she’s been doing, and how well she’s doing at school. Finally, Dean thinks he understands it, as the part of his heart he’s kept locked away for so long is allowed out, allowed to be free. He’s missed this like he’d miss breathing, missed having his family around him, knowing that they’re all safe, all together, knowing he can wake up in the morning and there will be Seth, and coffee, and stolen kisses in the kitchen. Knowing that dinner at Roman’s will be Jojo on his lap, dozing off as they talk about the latest custom orders Roman’s working up in the shop, and Seth’s hand on his knee under the table when Roman goes to put his daughter to bed.

This is homecoming. This is family. This is what life is supposed to feel like.


End file.
